


Allura Assortments

by HaroThar



Series: Allurashipweek2019 [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Agender Pidge (Voltron), Allurashipweek2019, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Shay/Romelle (Voltron), Background shiro/keith - Freeform, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Cenleo AU, Cultural Differences, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Fix-It, Goddess AU, Hiking, I call them, Keith's hot mom, Lion centaur AU, Multi, Nonbinary Pidge (Voltron), Polyamorous relationship, Sickfic, The Allura/Pidge is a past relationship, angel au, back from the dead, crackfic, crackship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-30 03:39:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 9,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19034020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaroThar/pseuds/HaroThar
Summary: All of my sfw fics for Allurashipweek2019, each chapter will be titled with the prompt and pairing, with notes on fics that need it.





	1. Angel/Goddess Hallura

**Author's Note:**

> Angel Hunk and Goddess Allura

_Holy, holy, holy,_  
Sing to the goddess almighty.  
Wade in the water, child,  
Wade where the goddess will touch thee. 

_Holy, holy, holy,_  
Sing to the mother almighty.  
Our lives are ocean-born,  
From water, goddess-given life to thee. 

_Holy, holy, holy,_  
Sing to the empress almighty.  
Earth fire ice plant and sky,  
All dominion before she, the mighty. 

_Holy, holy, holy,_  
Mourn so the goddess can hear thee.  
All lives return to her gentle palms,  
And the goddess, she sheds her tears for thee. 

Hunk opened his eyes as the gathered Alteans in the temple allowed their voices to fade. This was the second-favorite part of his job, he was pretty sure. Listening to worshippers on holy days. The music they created was so wonderful, so unlike anything he and the other angels could come up with.

Then came his job, the “reason” he and his team were there, as it were. One by one, worshippers approached the altar to lay gifts and whisper their prayers. Hunk and his friends, in a rush of wings Altean ears could not hear, flocked to the altar, crowding in, listening. 

The first worshipper left dried flowers as a gift, and prayed that Allura would bless their fields for a vast and healthy harvest. Shiro and Pidge fist bumped, the two of them the ones to fill the prayer—Shiro was a rainbringer, Pidge, a greenthumb. The task would be split between the two.

The next worshipper left the first slice of a loaf of bread and prayed for resolution between their fighting father and brother, and Keith—Allura’s torchbearer of justice—fluffed his feathers at that. The next asked for healthy livestock, a task for Hunk with his earth-warm hands, the next a prayer for sickness in their grandmother, also Hunk’s. Following came prayers for inspiration—Lance the riverrider’s domain—healing, growth, fortune, luck, love, fertility, safety, joy, and also prayers of thanks. When the last worshipper had sat down again, the angels flocked back to the rafters, watching the Alteans in their religious ways finish out their customs. 

Keith and Shiro embraced before splitting ways, their wings curling around each other, while Lance bragged loudly to the group about how wonderful of a job he was going to do on his prayers and how impressed Allura would be with him. Pidge and Hunk exchanged a look and rolled their eyes, then quickly preened off the more obviously loose feathers before Pidge took off, always first to set to work and get their jobs done. Hunk’s unofficial job was to bring the offering to Allura before starting on his, and so he gathered the items. Food, primarily, flowers and strong scented herbs, and occasionally trinkets were left for the ocean goddess. 

He took them and dove beneath the waves. His wings, though fluffy with soft feathers in the air, transformed to large, golden fins underwater, propelling him forward, and deep. Deep past where the sun stopped shining and deeper still to where Allura’s glow filled the ocean floor. Many other angels were converging towards the same spot Hunk went: to their goddess. To bring the offerings to her. 

Allura was, as always, a sight to behold. Radiant as nothing else in all the mortal world, her hair a floating mass of silver and her eyes the blue of all the ocean. She listened to her people's prayers and received her people’s gifts, and her angels she sent to aid and fix and help to every voice she heard. When Hunk entered, she smiled.

“And what have you brought me?” Allura asked him, and him alone. The other angels tittered around them, grinning, some whispering behind their palms to one another. Hunk smiled sheepishly at the attention, at _her_ attention, and stepped towards her. 

“The offerings from the temple in Euderite, my goddess,” he said, dancing the dance. She extended her palms, dark as the stones of the ocean and warm as the vents she was born from, and Hunk pretended to hand the offering over. Her hands caught ahold of his own and they smiled at each other, at their familiar game. The tittering grew louder, but Allura had never cared for the delighted gossip of her angels and Hunk had learned not to mind it. 

“For some reason, I’ve more interest in the messenger.” Her fingers came up beneath his chin while her other palm smoothed over the golden expanse of his wing, and he smiled at her. “How was the holiday?”

“Good,” Hunk said, “you’re people are happy and I’m happy to see them. I’m happy to see you, too.”

It was fun to watch her careful composure crack. For some reason, the goddess who received all praise from most mortals would blush and fluster under the compliments of one of her own angels. But Hunk wasn’t going to second guess his unique ability to make Allura grin and flush and look away. He would, however, step in closer and wrap his wings around her giant, magnificent shoulders and place his hands on her waist. 

“How was your holiday?” Hunk asked in return, and leaned into her hand when she caressed his hair.

“Better now that you’re here.”

To be fair, Hunk never claimed she couldn’t fluster him back. He ducked his head and his wings fluttered, thumbs digging briefly into her waist, and then he darted up for a quick kiss.

“Oooo, is that one of my offerings?” Allura asked, and Hunk laughed.

“Yeah, special from me,” Hunk joked back, and then she kissed him in return, deeper, a thrilling mix of familiar and electric. Her arms wrapped around him and he tightened his wings around her, the two close, face to face now, nose to nose. 

“If I were a good and kind goddess, I’d tell you to get going and answer the prayers of earth from the temple you attended,” Allura murmured.

“You are a good and kind goddess,” Hunk said easily. “Which is why you deserve to take a break and do the things you want to do, every so often.”

Allura pressed their foreheads together and hummed. “Well, right now I think I’d very much like to kiss you again.”

“Anything for you, Allura.”


	2. Colors Hallura

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New years, sickfic, spring, hiking, a ball, magic

“Red is the color of luck,” Hunk explained, helping Allura fasten her Hanfu. They were matching, both red and gold, and Allura’s hair was pinned up with Hunk’s grandmother’s ornaments. 

“I just thought that it was a lovely choice,” Allura said, admiring herself in the mirror. “Are all Earth festivals so brightly colored?”

“Depends on the culture,” Hunk said, placing his hands on her hips and smiling at her in the mirror. “My dad’s holidays are all pretty festive, though. New Year’s is his favorite so we all make a big deal out of it.” He kissed her cheek. “I’m happy you could be here for it.”

“I am, too,” Allura said, leaning against him and placing her hand on top of his, their fingers reflexively twining. “I’m looking forward to learning all about your holidays. All of them.”

Hunk smiled, more bashful this time, and kissed her temple. “Yeah,” he said, “and I’m looking forward to sharing.”

—

Allura sneezed, hard, and blew her nose again. Ugh, she _hated_ this.

“Knock knock,” Hunk said in the doorway, his hands too full with a tray to do the knocking.

“Come in,” Allura said around her ridiculously, stupidly stuffed up nose. 

“Breakfast in bed for the sick princess,” Hunk announced quietly as he set the tray down over her legs. More juice than she thought could be stored in one fridge was available to her, most of it this opaque, orange kind, and he had orange and red fruits in a bowl next to a small bowl of hot brown cereal.

“Tell me what all this is?” Allura asked, smiling around her bleary eyes.

“Oatmeal, orange juice, apple juice, oranges, and strawberries,” Hunk said, pointing to each one. “Oranges and strawberries boost your immune system and help fend off colds, juice is good because sugar and fluids, and oatmeal is easy on the stomach.” Hunk kissed her sweaty forehead and she swatted him.

“You’ll get sick.”

“I have more cousins than you can keep track of, my immune system is undefeatable,” Hunk countered, kissing the top of her hair.

“You have fruits that are just called their color?” Allura asked, changing the subject.

“Yeah. Only those, though. Just oranges.”

Allura began to peel it with her nails and smiled. “That’s cute. I like that.”

—

“Alteans are a spacefaring race of diplomats and trade facilitators,” Allura said, half idle, watching clouds roll past on a windy afternoon. “I’ve seen many, many planets. And I’ve seen many places blossoming into spring.”

She held the yellow daffodile up with a smile, cradling it like she used to hold the blooms of her own planet. “But each planet, the vernal season is always my favorite. Everything bursting back into life.”

“It’s beautiful,” Hunk agreed, leaning back on his elbows. Daffodils sprung up around him and swayed lightly in the wind. “Fall’s always my favorite. Everything finally cooling off again.”

Allura lifted the bloom and tucked the daffodil in the line of Hunk’s headband. He smiled at her, and looked so irresistibly beautiful in that moment that she simply had to lean in and kiss him.

“I can see how summer heat would bother you,” Allura said softly, hand placed over top of Hunk’s. “Your heart is so warm, your hands, your whole soul.”

Hunk laughed, blushing lightly. “What’s got you in such a mood?”

Allura leaned her head against his broad shoulder. “Just happy, I guess. In Altean color theory, yellow is the color of joy, you know.” She stroked a hand over the small of his back. “And you are my yellow paladin.”

—

“Are we lost?” Allura asked, sounding more amused than alarmed. 

“No,” Hunk said immediately, looking between his map and his compass with a bead of sweat down his temple. “I’m just, calculating.”

Allura laughed, high and airy. “I don’t believe you” she said, fingers gently tilting the map down. Her eyes were maybe mischievous, maybe teasing. 

Hunk breathed out slow, shoulders slumping. “Yeah, we’re lost.”

Allura kissed his cheek, which made him feel a little less terrible about getting them lost on what should have been an easy hike through a local forest.

“Here, give me the map,” Allura told him gently, slipping the paper from his fingers. She looked pretty with her hair tied up for hiking and stompy forest boots.

“I don’t understand it,” Hunk whined, “I can reconfigure alien technology with a high school—well I mean I guess technically college since the garrison was an advanced track of militant education for the gifted—I can do wild, amazing things with my humble earth education and advanced technology far beyond my scope, I can build a geiger counter out of an antique gameboy and some random wires that were seriously damaged by sand and wind, but the moment I want to take my girlfriend on a hike I get _lost.”_

“Hunk, it’s alright,” Allura said, placing her hand on his forearm. “There are worse places to get lost. And if I’m reading this right, there should be a lake just ahead.” She took his hand and led him, like she had since the day they met. So confident, so capable, Hunk still felt dumb and twitterpated every time he saw her, like he was 14 all over again. 

Sure enough, the lake was right where she expected it to be, and he swore to himself he would always let her keep the map from then on. She delightedly made her way down to the water, which was coated in a thick film of algae.

“Oh, look at this,” Allura said delightedly, sun filtering through the trees and patterning leafy shadows across her skin. “There are so many bugs in here!”

“Oh, that is so cool,” Hunk agreed, getting close to the water’s edge himself. Springy, native grass cropped up around them, and active birdcall sounded just outside where the two of them were. “Man, I haven’t gone bug collecting since I was a kid.”

“We could do it here,” Allura suggested.

“Considering this is a wildlife preserve, I think people would get mad at us.” Hunk brightened suddenly, “Oh, but I can show you the best place for rolly pollies back at my place.”

“Sounds fun!” Allura said, skimming her slender fingers over the surface of the algae. She lifted her eyes, and caught him smiling at her. “What?”

“You’re just really great.”

Allura laughed. “You make me feel wonderful, Hunk. Thanks for bringing me here.” She smiled at the surrounding forest. “It’s been a while since I’ve been surrounded by so much green.”

—

Allura was gorgeous.

That was obvious, all day, every day, every week and month and year.

But it was especially obvious right then, with Allura’s dazzling blue formal dress. They were attending a diplomatic party with the other leaders of the coalition, a fancy kind of event that left Pidge complaining about bowties and uncomfortable shoes and Lance positively preening like a bird in mating season. Allura, while always stunningly, breathtakingly gorgeous, had really outdone herself.

The blue fabric cascaded around her like an elf, like a fey from some ancient story, luring Hunk himself to a death out in space. Blue earrings and a matching necklace draped over her satin-smooth skin, glinting in the soft lights around them. And the most devastating of all, her bright blue eyes, smiling at him.

“Wow.”

Allura smiled, the curve of her lips setting Hunk’s heart aflutter. “You look fairly sharp yourself, yellow paladin of voltron.”

Hunk glanced down at his borrowed Altean attire, soft, thick yellow and bronze cloth that flowed off his shoulders and hips like water. Cottony water.

“Thanks,” he said, eyes going back to her, where they would inevitably stay the whole night, locked on. “But I mean you… wow.”

“Wow?”

_“Wow.”_

Allura laughed, slipping her arms around Hunk’s, settling in against his side. “You’re a poet,” she teased.

“You’re too breathtaking,” Hunk protested, “Not my fault.”

“Well, I’d like you to find those brilliant words of yours, Hunk. You’re my only diplomatic backup in this band of hooligans.”

“Shiro’s pretty decent,” Hunk countered.

“Shiro’s going to be staring open mouthed and stuttering at Keith all evening. I need you to resist doing the same for me.”

“Okay, yeah, yeah, fair point, fair point,” Hunk agreed. He kissed her cheek. “Don’t worry princess, I’ve got your back.” Hunk stared at her blue, blue eyes a long moment more. “But first, just…. _wow.”_

—

“Purple is the color most frequently associated with the soul,” Allura explained while Hunk listened raptly. “And, more than that,” she said, light flowing off her fingers.

“Magic,” Hunk finished for her, breath full of awe.

“Magic,” Allura agreed. Brilliant shapes flew off her fingers, an array of light and strange creatures Hunk had only heard of in Coran’s lengthy and complex swears. Whorls and shapes, geometric lines and fading gradients, brilliant figures and strange runes, bright lights and dim glows, all of it swirling and pulsing and in the center of it all, Allura. 

Allura. Confident Allura. Competent Allura. Brilliant, headstrong, empathetic, capable Allura, who breathed magic and whose heart beat fire through her veins. 

How many times had Hunk fallen in love with her?

Countless. Countless. In every determined glare, in every barked order in high stakes situations, in every cunning move against the Galra, in every riotous speech given to hopeless peoples. In every laugh, in every quiet moment when she let herself rest against his side, in every silly voice or goofy impression, in every game of M&M, in every sparkling croon at something shiny or pretty. In every heartfelt tear she shed for those they couldn’t save, in every moment when her open, bleeding heart proved Voltron’s greatest strength, where their enemies thought they would find weakness, in every sympathetic hand placed on the arm or shoulder of someone whose suffering she shared in, in every embrace she offered to the hurting.

In every moment, Hunk had loved her. Endless, continuous, an infinity of starting agains stacked so close together it formed a perfect line.

So why should it be different, now, with her face cast in the light flowing from her fingers, eyes shining with her own ability and lips shaped around the words she shared with Hunk?

Yes, Hunk thought, he’d fallen in love with her countless times, in moments just like this. And he would fall for her a countless more.


	3. Colors Hallura & Pallura

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stable, domestic Hallura  
> Puppy love that fails and settles into a strong friendship Pallura  
> Brother and rock, Shiro & Allura  
> Brother and rival, Keith & Allura  
> Self love

Yellow.

Yellow was the color of steadfast warmth, of stubborn joy in the face of adversity, yellow was strong, immovable, firm. Yellow was the scent of something new baking in the oven, smell hanging heavy in the air and thick warmth filling the space alongside it. 

Yellow was jokes made to liven up the room. Yellow was sunlight in supposedly dark hours, hope in dismal situations. Yellow was the sun setting on a hard day, and rising on a new one, freshly made.

Yellow was the weight of Hunk’s hand, heavy on her hip but never constricting. Yellow was the taste of his lips against hers, sweet and firm and soft as the sun-warmed soil. Yellow was the color of a love made into a home, of sweet romance simmered down comforting and thick.

Green.

Green was the color of lively curiosity, of unstoppable inquisition poking and prodding and growing through any cracks and edges it could find, and splitting open a newfound seam in boulders and metal when no peeping holes could be found. Green was the color of relentless forward motion, of growth that would neither yield nor hesitate.

Green was playful teasing and sharp prods of making fun. Green was new and childish and tougher than iron. Green was a novel experience followed by a second, until everything was new and the momentum was far too ferocious to escape.

Green was Pidge’s curious kisses, on cheeks and hands and foreheads, before ever reaching the lips. Green was mapping out new territory with two hands held in Pidge’s, dauntless and unafraid and excited. Green was puppy love, two crushes intertwined, but ultimately settling into winter’s brown with no malice nor hard feelings, only the promise of a new spring, and a new form for love to take. 

Black.

Black was the color of reliability. Black was cool and ever present, the color of the space between the stars that served as backdrop and steady foundation for their light. Black was hot coffee served plain and calculated words and numbers on the plans that they made. 

Black was cool metal and kind hands, gentle “go to sleep; it’s late”s when the night had drawn on so long. Black was open ears to listen and shoulders that desperately needed someone else to lean on, in those blackened hours. Black was giving, but black needed to take, too.

Black was Shiro’s tired sagging into Allura’s arms, his head on her lap or her shoulder and his hand held inside hers, neither one of them knowing who needed this more. Black was the color of Shiro, so strong, and so desperately vulnerable too. Black was the shadow of the man who stood, inevitable, invincible, a brother and partner and friend.

Red.

Red was the color of everything, all the time, so much. Perhaps red was the color of too much, of words just a little too cruel said just a little too soon before the filter kicked in and left guilt tasting heavy in its wake. Red was two tempers interlocking with fangs and refusing to be the first to let go.

But red was also warmth in a cold and frightening place. Red was two hands interlocked, because it was far better to be red than to be lonely. Red was understanding, blood-deep and irreversible. Red was the light in the darkroom that developed the film of all the ugly pictures of themselves, never judging but good to see. Good to know.

Red was the color of Keith’s angry words curled around Allura’s own, sharp and too true not to be born of horrid introspection turned outwards. But red was Keith’s fervent palm, pressed so tightly against her own, because red was Keith’s trust, and as in all things, Keith gave his 100%. Red was the color of a brother and a rival and a foil, or a mirror.

Blue. 

Blue was the color of confidence, with an undercurrent beneath it of uncertainty. Blue was trying, trying really, really hard, and praying it would end up okay. Blue was staring down five fools and one silly old man and praying to any god still listening that success could be made from this. 

Blue was her family’s color, her father’s bright eyes and her mother’s favorite necklace and the dress she liked to wear best. Blue was family found in the blue-lit halls of the castle, which was a home made with the people housed in it. 

Blue was Allura, her pride in herself, and also her fears. The give and take, the ebb and flow of growing and shifting and changing as the universe around her shifted endlessly. Blue was Allura’s bravery, her endless wearing at the sands of fate, knowing if she beat against it long enough, ceaselessly, eventually it would give in to the future she would carve from it. Blue was Allura’s color. Blue was the love she held for herself.


	4. Family Hallura

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coran and Hunk's parents discuss their children and gossip about said children's relationship.

“Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe, at your service!” Coran said brightly, bowing with a show of extravagance and extending his hand to the young lady and gent he understood to be Hunk’s parents. Mrs. Garrett chuckled warmly and took his hand, giving a firm and friendly shake. 

“It’s a pleasure,” she said, and Hunk had his mother’s voice, Coran noted. 

“The pleasure is entirely mine! Hunk’s has such wonderful things to say about you.”

“He says good things about you, too,” Mr. Garrett said with a bright smile of his own. “About all of you, really. We’re so glad that since our boy had to end up on a wild and deadly space adventure, at least he wound up with you.”

Coran felt his heart warm at that. “And we’re deeply, truly blessed to have him. He is one of the greatest people in all the universe, and I mean that genuinely.” Unable to be serious for too terribly long, Coran twirled his mustache and boisterously added, “And I should know! I’ve met many of them!”

The Garretts laughed, turning fond eyes on their son. Mrs. Garrett got a wicked grin. “He certainly has plenty to say about that lovely woman he’s spending so much time around, too.”

Coran felt utterly _delighted,_ realizing now he had adults and parents to gossip with. 

“Oh, does he?” Coran asked conspiratorially, sliding into their personal space with a hand up close to his mouth. “Now, you didn’t hear this from me, but my young princess has many fond things to say about him, too.”

“Does she?” Mr. Garrett asked, a hand wrapping around his wife’s waist so he could lean in as well. “How much? What’s she say?”

“Now, now, Allura is like a daughter to me; I’ve known her before she was even born! I won’t disclose any details shared to me in confidence. Buuuut,” Coran grinned, mustache gleaming with shiny mischief, “if I were to describe the overall tone of what she has to say, I would call it _decidedly_ fond.”

“Oh, hooo,” Mrs. Garrett chimed brightly, rubbing her hands together in delight. “Our boy’s over the moon about her, I’ll tell you that. Every other sentence about his wild space escapades starts with her name.” She turned happy eyes to the princess in question. “And having met her, I can see why. She’s a bright girl; a good head on her shoulders.”

“Of the girls he’s brought home to meet us, she’s easily my favorite,” Mr. Garrett agreed.

“And of all the boys and men who’ve loved Allura, I will gladly admit my fondness for your son. I quite like that boy.”

“What’s going on over here?” Mrs. Holt asked, arriving with a glass of white wine and a hard-won photograph of her entire family in the other. 

“We’re talking about how delightful Hunk and Allura are,” Coran said brightly. Not necessarily in the romantic sense, on account that both individuals _were_ delightful.

“Oh, aren’t they just the cutest?” Colleen said with a hand to her chest, which was all the opening for all three to say _“Yes!”_

“They’re just darling. Hunk wanted to try out my yeast strains so he could bake her the best tasting cookies he could possibly manage.”

“Oh that’s adorable.”

“Just like him.”


	5. Home Hallura

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hunk comforts a homeless princess

The war was over, the battle won. It was time for them all to go home.

But where was that, for her?

For some, it was obvious. Lance’s family had missed him almost— _almost_ —as much as he had missed them, Pidge had returned with their father and brother, victoriously reunited with their mother as well, and Hunk’s mother had barely let him from her sight since their ship had touched down on Earth again. 

For some, home was a person, not a place, a feeling and a want, rather than a structure. So Shiro and Keith interlocked their hands and swore to navigate the stars until Shiro had seen all he could ever hope to see, and Keith could keep within his orbit.

But for Allura?

What home did she have to go to?

Coran was her only remaining family, and the only remaining Altean, beside herself. The mice were her friends and shared some piece of her soul. But the castle was gone, the place where she had been raised among the stars and stardust, crushed forever into a diamond.

“Allura?”

“Hunk!” she said, startling out of her ruminations. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Yeah, you seemed pretty deep in thought there,” Hunk set down a glass of water on the table next to the couch she was artfully draped over the back of, and sat down next to her. She turned to him, smiling in spite of her earlier mood. Hunk could always brighten her day, just by the merit of being there. “You okay?”

“Just…” Allura sighed and took the water, sipping it as an excuse not to talk a moment. She leaned on him, his steady, warm shoulder firm and solid underneath her. He made her feel so safe, like the universe wasn’t a shifting, unfeeling thing that would swallow her whole and not think it more than consuming a particle of dust.

“Thinking about the future,” she decided on.

“Yeah?” he prodded gently, asking for more but never demanding.

“Just.” Allura rubbed at her face, fatigue in her bones so much harder to ignore, now, when there wasn’t a war to be won. “You’ve all got places to be. People to be with. Homes. Even Keith and Shiro, who have no family to speak of, with the exception of Krolia, and nowhere to live, feel at home as long as they’re together. And I… don’t. Have anything like that.” She held up a hand and quickly amended, “Not that Coran isn’t deeply important to me. I have always meant it when I have said he is like a second father to me. Just…”

“I get it,” Hunk said softly. “It’s alright, I understand.”

Hunk was so _fucking_ gentle.

“I want to go home,” Allura said, throat tight, tears pricking at her stubborn eyes. “I want to go back to Altea, and climb the mountains and pick flowers there. I want to go to sleep in _my_ bed, I want to bother my father about his latest project and heckle my mother about her day. I want to go _home.”_ Her chin was wobbling fiercely, the awful, loathsome sensation of tears she couldn’t prevent but was too mulish to allow reddening her face.

“Allura,” Hunk said, large arms wrapping around her while she rapidly set down the glass so she wouldn’t spill. She wrapped her arms around him, too, the size of him a comforting mass that was too big to hold all the way around. She pressed her face into the warm and earthy softness of his shoulder and felt those first few horrible, heinous hiccups weasel out of her. “Shhh, it’s gonna be okay,” Hunk promised, large palm stroking the back of her head. She whined, a pathetic and childish noise, choking on the sobs that she couldn’t keep holding back.

There was no bursting of a dam, not with Allura, just a slow loss of the battle with her own body as the tears came faster and the sobs and hiccups ripped themselves out of her louder and louder. Hunk held her and shushed her all the way through, her anchor, the only thing holding her tight enough to keep her from falling entirely to pieces. 

“Sorry,” she sniffled at what she damn well would _make_ be the end of it. “Probably not what you expected when you came in here.”

Hunk shrugged, arms still wrapped around her. “Eh. We’ve all been… having an adjustment period.” He kissed her hairline. “It makes sense. And Allura, you don’t have to apologize. Not ever, not for crying okay? I’m here for you, we all are.”

Allura wiped at her eyes and dug a tissue out of her pocket. “Thank you,” she said before blowing hard. “I know, Hunk. You—all of you, you’re my family now. More than just a team.”

“Absolutely,” Hunk agreed encouragingly. “And… If you want, you could make your new home with me, and my family?” Hunk suggested. “Coran could take my aunt’s old room, and you could bunk with me.” He blushed, then rushed to add, “If you want! Or I could take the couch, whatever works! Just, you’re my family too, and my family is their family. You will _always_ be welcome.”

Allura smiled, and went for teasing. As best she could, around the stuffy nose and reddened eyes. “Bunk with you, mm?”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You could.”

“I—what.”

“You could mean it like that. I certainly don’t mind the idea.”

“Oh… _oh.”_ Hunk was easy to fluster, always had been, but for some reason it absolutely never failed to delight Allura. “Oh, yeah, uh, okay yeah. Yeah. Yes.”

Allura smiled, and then flopped back into his side, curling into him and wrapping her arms around the bulk of him. His hand came to rest on her shoulder, safe, warm, comforting.

“Does that make us boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“Absolutely,” Allura said decisively, her own face warming pleasantly at the thought.

“Hunk? Hun—oh there you are,” Hunk’s mother called as she opened the door. “Don’t wander off like that. Come back to the common area, we still haven’t heard everything about your trip!”

“In a minute, mom,” Hunk said, hand smoothing a slow up and down on Allura’s back. 

“Hunk,” his mother said warningly.

“Private conversation, mom,” Hunk said, unruffled but respectful. Fortunately, either his mother took him at his word, or took notice of the position he and Allura were in, and gave them their privacy for a few moments longer.

“Fair warning, though, living with me means that will probably happen a lot.”

“Mm,” Allura hummed, wiping at her face again in vain hope she could make herself look presentable by the time they left the room. “I think I’ll manage.”

It would be nice, even.


	6. Legacy/Future Hallura

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hunk reads to a statue and sees someone he thought he'd never see again

“What is a legacy,” Hunk read aloud at the foot of the statue of the woman he’d once loved. “It’s planting seeds in a garden you never get to see.” He placed a bookmark and shut the book. “Early 21st century American poet, Lin-Manuel Miranda.”

He stared up at the stone. It was a beautiful day. Warm, with a chipper breeze, puffy white clouds racing by miles and miles above him, but that specific texture that made them look close enough to touch, if he just got a ladder and reached out far enough.

“You left a really good legacy, Allura,” he said to her youthful smile. Unfairly young, that her life had ended before Pidge’s voice had even dropped, before she’d gotten to see Lance’s hilarious attempt at a mustache, before she got to attend Shiro and Keith’s wedding, before she could tease Coran for his second encounter with the slipperies, before her body had even stopped growing, fully. Her face held no wrinkles in the stone, her skin did not sag like theirs was starting to. It wasn’t fair.

“The Olkari refugees have finally found a permanent new home,” Hunk said, “Hostilities have settled between Etheror and Voil. Kolivan is still working like a dog, but there’s really visible payout.” The mice darted around idly in front of him, two playing tag, one nibbling at the tall grass, one napping in the sunlight. “Shay and Romelle started dating, recently, and the three of us are still doing our ‘best friends who cook and yell sense into diplomatic leaders’ thing. Got to exercise my old engineering muscles, the other day. Had a minor breakdown in our ship. Easy repair, but it was fun.”

Hunk didn’t know why he kept coming back to this statue, to this place, and these memories. A sensible person would’ve had a hard cry, and moved on. He hadn’t even been 20 when she died, it wasn’t like they’d lived a lifetime together.

Maybe that’s what people meant, when they said “soulmate.”

“The others miss you less,” Hunk said, bittersweet. “It’s good. Losing you hit us all really hard. It’s nice to see everyone, y’know, moving on.” The smallest mouse skittered up his leg to avoid getting tagged, taking advantage of the giant friendly apex predator that doubled as a jungle gym. “Dunno why I can’t.”

Over the wind, it would have been impossible to hear any rustling of cloth, any footfall, any _anything,_ really. Maybe Keith or the other Marmorites could have, but Hunk was just a non-militant human who’d been retired from his robo-lion days for years.

But still, he turned.

“Allura?”

The woman before him had crows feet and smiling eyes. Clothes he’d never seen before and Altean marks that stretched further down her cheeks. Her hair was less sliver and more grey in small patches, just starting to shift, just barely, and her body was softer and squishier than it had been. Not forever youthful. Not carved in ageless stone.

“Hello, Hunk.”


	7. Legacy/Future Lotura

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Their fathers' legacy, but _their_ future

“Our fathers” Lotor liked to remind. His father, the hero turned homicidal dictator. Her father, the hero and martyr. The scientists, the explorers, the tragedies in two forms. “Our fathers” was the start of their relationship, the only foundational stone in the mud time and violence had left them wading through. “Our fathers” was the common point, two people who Lotor and Allura were both obsessed with, unable to escape or let go of. 

Allura placed her hand on top of Lotor’s, stopping him mid sentence. 

“We are not our fathers,” she said gently. 

He smiled at her, that heart wrenching way that only _he_ ever smiled at her, that he only ever smiled at _her_ with. “We aren’t. We have the chance to do this right.”

“We do,” Allura agreed, the future before her, “but, Lotor.” She cupped his face in both her palms, noting the twitch of his ears and the rise of his blush. “We are not bound to their narrative either. We can do what they tried, do better, but we can do new things altogether, too. Just us, the way we want things to be.”

“The way we want things to be…” Lotor echoed, a cautious hand coming up to her waist. Such a paradox, this man, always confident, a born leader, but with Allura, inexplicably shy. Two contradicting motivations at odds with each other.

Allura smiled, and slid her hands in the long and luscious hair of his and pulled him down, down, down, for a kiss. God, every time she remembered how much taller he was than her, it gave her flutters.

“The future is ours, and ours alone, Lotor,” she murmured against his lips. “We are guided by our fathers’ memories, but we are not bound to their legacies. 

Lotor nodded, his palm on top of hers, now. Then he turned and pressed a kiss to her palm. “Yes. I know. But, I suppose sometimes I forget.”

“That’s alright,” Allura assured, “I will be here with you, always to remind you.”

“Always,” Lotor murmured into her palm, eyes half-mast. “To have you, always, is a dream I could not in my wildest fantasies have fathomed. And yet, here you are.”

“And to have you, to have _this,”_ Allura said in gentle return, “Is more than I had ever dared to hope for.”


	8. Fashion Hallotor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Allura, Hunk, and Lotor must all decide what to wear to a Coalition party

Having two boyfriends was an all around excellent arrangement, one Allura was extraordinarily fond of, but it did make coordinating outfits relatively difficult.

Altean fashion was strikingly dissimilar to Galran, and human fashion was unlike either of them. Earth-based events went easily enough, Allura and Lotor would dress to suit Hunk’s culture. Allura found the styles of Earth quite flattering, and Lotor looked stellar in an agbada. When attending empire-based events, Allura and Hunk would dress like Galra, a simplistic and industrial style with blacks, purples, and Lotor’s favored oranges. But in gatherings for the Voltron Coalition, there were so many cultures intermingling it made sense to dress in the attire of one’s own heritage, but, again, that made coordinating difficult.

Especially since this was a party, not just a formal gathering where sleek black made for an acceptable outfit. They were supposed to dress _up._

“Nothing matches,” Allura said, looking through their collections of nice clothing. She had the largest assortment, but only because Lotor had previously been denied such vanities before claiming that Galran throne. He was making up for lost time in quick order, however. 

“We could all wear our human outfits,” Lotor suggested, resting a hand on her hip and the tip of his chin against her head. “Those match, and I like the flow of the cloth.”

Allura sighed. “I would prefer to wear one of my own outfits. Altea cannot host it’s own events, on account of not existing anymore, so Coalition gatherings are really the only place where I can wear my own fashion.”

She felt Lotor’s body perk up behind her and Hunk said, “Why don’t we all wear Altean clothes then?”

“I was just about to suggest that!” Lotor agreed delightedly. 

“Coran’s close to the same build as him,” Hunk said, gesturing to their tall purple boyfriend, “and I’m sure we could find something that would fit me.”

“Hunk you’re a genius,” Allura said, the solution so _obvious_ now that someone had said it out loud. 

“Thanks, I know,” Hunk said with a smile, bending to kiss her cheek fondly. “I’ll go ask Coran, he knows where everything is in this castle.” 

“Thank you Hunk!” Allura called after him, twisting in Lotor’s arms and looping her own around his waist. “Well, you look happy,” she remarked. And he did, ears pointing nearly straight up, eyes bright with fully-visible irises, his velveteen fur raised which gave his features a soft and rounded quality. 

“You know how dearly I enjoy Altean culture,” Lotor said. His ears twitched down a brief moment, “and how often I’ve longed that I could have been raised a part of it. I’m delighted to receive the chance to wear traditional attire from my mother's people.”

“And I know you’ll look positively devastating in it,” Allura said with a smile of her own, going up on tiptoes to kiss him. 

—

It was simultaneously a fortunate and unfortunate happenstance that both her men were, in fact, devastatingly attractive in Altean formalwear. The thick gold and beige cloth cascaded over Hunk’s figure in a way that was decidedly godlike, and the patterned blue and white Lotor had selected carved easy pathways for her eyes to roam all over his body. 

“Well, when I said you’d look amazing I didn’t say you could _upstage_ me,” Allura teased, wearing a high-collared dress and train herself. 

“Oh, we definitely aren’t,” Hunk assured, eyes on her and her alone. 

“I agree with full vehemence,” Lotor said, sliding his large palm against the small of her back and pressing his painted lips to her hairline. 

Hunk came close and kissed her, also, and then kissed Lotor in front of her, Hunk’s hand on her shoulder. 

“I suppose we shall have to settle for the fact that all three of us are relentlessly attractive individuals with superb taste,” Allura compromised, and her lovers agreed. When their party entered the ballroom, Allura noted with smug satisfaction that all eyes were indeed on them.


	9. Armor Krollura

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stacey's mom has got it going on, Stacey's mom has got it going o-on

Meeting Keith’s mother had the whole castle in titters, Shiro obviously the worst, but everyone else was very excited too. Allura patiently waited, at least outwardly, for her turn to shake Krolia’s hand and say hello, smiling the whole while with eyes glued to the woman’s face. 

“You must be Princess Allura, then,” Krolia greeted with a smile that showed just the barest hint of fang, extending her hand.

“A pleasure to meet you, Keith’s hot mom,” Allura said, out loud, which left the rest of the castle dead silent.

—

“Keith’s hot mom,” Keith said for what had to be the millionth time, later in Allura’s bedroom while she diligently worked on suffocating herself in her own pillow.

“I can’t believe I said that,” Allura groaned for what had to be the billionth time, earning another bout of mocking laughter from Keith. 

“I can’t either. Is this like, a _thing_ with you? Is there something deeper going on here?” Keith carried on, delightedly ignoring Allura slowly lifting and dropping her fist on the back of her own skull. “Do you feel deep, unbridled attraction to me, but since I’m gay and also taken you’ve shifted those feelings onto my mom?”

Allura groaned loudly.

“Or do you just have a thing for older women, maybe? Milfs? Are you into milfs, Allura?”

Allura lifted the pillow from under her face so she could wrap it around her ears, trying to block her friend out. 

Keith, absolutely undaunted, sat on her back. “Is it because she’s Galra? Do you secretly have a Galra fetish?”

“I just saw a hot woman in armor and my mouth went faster than my brain!” Allura protested. “That’s it!”

“Right, right. Keith’s hot mom, incredible.”

“I hate you.”

—

Fortunately, the next time Allura saw Krolia, they were not in front of Allura’s friends, Allura’s secondary father figure, god Themself, or Keith’s new dog. It was just them.

“Krolia,” Allura flagged, apology on her lips, jogging a few steps closer.

“Keith’s hot friend,” Krolia greeted in return, grinning with fangs showing. Allura noticed belatedly that she was out of her blade armor, and just wearing a sleek, fashionable tank top. Oh she was in so much trouble.

“Ah, yes, that’s what I wanted to apologize about,” Allura said with a bright blush. 

“Nothing to apologize for,” Krolia said before Allura could remark on the inappropriateness of her comment. “I’m flattered.”

“O-oh. That’s good then. I am, glad I didn’t make you uncomfortable. It won’t happen again, though, I promise.”

Krolia leaned on the nearby wall, hand sliding behind her ear and through her lovely hair, musculature on full display.

“Mm. That’s too bad. Something might have happened, otherwise.”

Oh.

Ohhhhhh.

Oh no, Allura was in _trouble._

“Well then, I suppose I shall see you later, Keith’s hot mom.”

Krolia grinned wide again and Allura felt her heart flutter. She was playing with fire, now.

She grinned back.

—

“I can’t believe you’re dating my mom,” Keith said into his pillow, for what had to be the millionth time. 

“I can’t either,” Allura answered again, delightedly perched on top of Keith’s back. “Does she like flowers? Sweets? What do you think would be good ways to woo her, do you think?”

“I regret everything,” Keith muttered, and Allura poked at his side. 

“Pidge also wanted me to let you know,” she cleared her throat, and began singing to the tune of some earth song, “Keith-y’s Mom has got it going on!”

Keith groaned loudly and moved his pillow on top of his head, blocking his ears, while she laughed riotously at him.


	10. Cultural Differences Hallura

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The best way to a person's culture is through their stomach

Hunk was of a firm and stalwart belief that no matter who you were or where you were from, the best way to engage with a new culture was through food. 

And he’d been waiting to show Allura his culture’s food for a long, long while.

“What are you making?” Allura asked, peeking her head around his body to stare at the stove. 

“Shrimp and grits! It’s one of my favorite meals ever. Nothing says ‘home’ to me quite like it. My mom’s is obviously the best but I’m not too bad.”

“It smells wonderful,” she praised, and he passed her a large bowl just as soon as he was finished.

“Cornbread’s almost done,” Hunk said, “Let’s get this stuff to the table and also something to drink, and we should be ready to go.”

Hunk was delighted to see how much Allura liked the food. It wasn’t the fanciest thing he’d ever made, and far from experimental, but it was good food, familiar to him in the same way an old shirt with worn and fraying sleeves was familiar, comfortable. 

“Welcome to Earth,” he said, and when she smiled at him he felt so impossibly warm.

—

The next big meal, of course, absolutely had to be bao. Hunk’s family was gathered around, as they always were, at the table and kitchen counter, making filling and then stuffing it. Allura sat at Hunk’s side, Hunk’s grandmother at his right and father on Allura’s left, and Allura watched Hunk’s grandmother raptly as she showed her how to fill the dumplings. This was it, this was the peak of everything, Hunk always decided. Just, his family, gathered around, making food, making _good_ food, traditional food. His girlfriend at his side and the smell of it all in the air and the familiarity of it all, the joy to be sharing it with the woman he loved most.

His dad wasn’t much for the kitchen, he much prefered the garage or his workshop. He was the man who had inspired Hunk’s love for engineering, the endless desire to tinker with metal and wires. But this was the one food where he never missed the making, and for some reason that always made Hunk emotional. It was good to see the way that food could bring anyone and everyone around the table, but it was even better to see the way it always had. The family memories stored in each person, all gathered around the steamers and the dough.

“This is really nice,” Allura told him quietly, leaning in against his shoulder, and he smiled.

“It’s good to have you here. Making bao with the family is one of my favorite things to do.”

“You’ve told me about it,” Allura said, “Even with you talking it up so much, it’s surpassed my expectations. It’s just. Nice.”

Hunk kissed her forehead and passed her the bowl of filling, feeling stuffed full of love, himself.

—

“It’s a traditional Altean breakfast,” she told him. “Obviously the ingredients have all been substituted, but it’s rather hard to go wrong with flour, sugar, and preserves.”

“It looks kind of like Swedish pancakes,” he remarked, hands on her waist from behind, standing close on the cold kitchen tile in the soft morning light.

“Possibly,” Allura said as she poured thin disks of batter onto the skillet. “It’s far from the most complex of foods. But still. They remind me of home,” she said fondly, smiling at the pan. They were thin enough that flipping them was just to get both sides evenly browned, not cooked, and she dabbed strawberry jam in little heart shapes in the middle of each disk.

“That’s adorable,” Hunk said, almost not wanting to eat them, they were so cute.

“You’re adorable,” Allura said, kissing him briefly and tasting of morning coffee. “Eat up. I’ve got about a million more of these on the way, and they taste best hot.”

“Aye aye captain,” Hunk joked, smiling at her, and bit into one. It tasted amazing.


	11. AU Hallura

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Centaurs but like, with lions. Also Pidge is a harpy based off the ancient greek ones, despite being in Africa for this fic.

Lion prides consisted of women, of their families, with young men too small to leave just yet, and an older man, maybe two, possibly three, who acted as head until a fresh, new male came to usurp the throne as leader of the pride. Young women often stayed with their mothers and aunts, few opting to leave the group as they aged.

Allura had never really planned on leaving hers. She liked her mother, liked her nanna and her aunts, liked her goofy uncle and her father.

But when Zarkon took over the pride, her father and uncle’s corpses a testimony to the nature of their kind, Allura quietly took her leave.

“Okay, hear me out,” Pidge, a red billed hornbill that Allura had befriended in her youth, said, perching on Allura’s back. “We’re all actually insects.”

“And how do you reach that conclusion?” Allura asked, meandering towards a nearby watering hole.

“Insects are primarily defined as having six limbs, right? But we have six limbs. I have my bird legs, my wings, and my human arms, you have your human arms, and your lion legs. That’s six.

“Don’t insects also have wings?” Allura asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Pidge said, and for a moment Allura wondered if she’d actually been able to successfully counter one of Pidge’s conspiracy theories. “I guess that means just _you’re_ an insect. I’m a regular harpy.”

Allura laughed, and then her ear twitched. When she turned to look, she saw Pidge’s prey sensibilities also had them staring off to the north.

There was a cenleo there. A lion, just like herself, though he was more beige-gold while she had a more silvery-white quality to her fur. He seemed to notice them about the same time they noticed him, and the wind rustled the grass around the other wise still trio.

He raised a hand in greeting. He wasn’t going to fight them.

She lifted a hand back, and crossed over, curious. There wasn’t much chance he would try and fight her, not if he wasn’t making that clear from the start, though Pidge voiced their wariness. 

“Hello,” he greeted, and he had a gorgeous voice. Pidge peered around Allura’s shoulders, likely looking every bit the skeptic, and Allura smiled.

“Hello yourself. Is this your territory?” she asked, not wanting to intrude. He shrugged.

“Only sort of. I’m not going to fight anyone for it, but my pride and I live here.”

A lion that wouldn’t fight having a pride. How novel.

“I’m in the market for a pride,” Allura mentioned, liking how his body language was nonthreatening, almost unassuming. “My name’s Allura.”

“Hunk.”

—

A long conversation near the watering hole and a quick conference with Pidge later, the two decided to follow Hunk home and meet the other lionesses he lived with. He was a soft man, and his pride a collection of people, unrelated, who simply hadn’t been at home among others, or whose families had died of plagues or disasters and had needed new ones. 

Allura supposed she’d never find a group more fitting.

Shay, Romelle, Axca, and a woman old enough to be Hunk’s mother, Krolia, greeted Allura warmly, forming fast friendships. They were also quite smitten with Pidge, who gladly informed them all that they were “a lionhearted person anyway.” Hunk rested on a warm rock, happily observing that Allura was welcomed and accepted into the family, and Allura gave him a smile.

Allura smiled back and sauntered over. “I think we’d like to stay,” she said, leaning her lower body against Hunk’s on the warm rock and looking over to where Pidge was arguing delightedly with Romelle. 

Hunk gently touched her hand and smiled at her with the kindest eyes. “I’d like it if you stayed, too.”


	12. AU Lotura

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They do it over again, but this time, they do it right.

The first try, he’d been a villain. Her enemy only, treating her like an object to be stolen or won. The second, still a villain, he’d desired to make her a member of his harem, then his wife. Each time she’d been the parody of a person, a damsel princess in distress for the Paladins to save. Over and over, they came into each other’s orbit, but he was too bestial and she was too helpless; they couldn’t be. Too warped by their roles.

It seemed almost as though this time they’d gotten it. He was bestial, but not villainous. He was someone raised in blood and war and who saw corpses as frequent as the moons, a child raised loveless in an endless void who sought to be better than his upbringing. She was passionate, bold, commanding and sharp, capable of ruling, not just a princess in name. And so they fell into each other’s orbit’s again, closer this time. They kissed. They succeeded—well, not quite. They came close to success, brushed hands with it. But the bestial nature of his upbringing had driven him to make sacrifices she could not abide, and the fire in her soul burned too bright and too angry for forgiveness, and they killed each other. First she killed him, left him to rot in the rift between realities. Then his absence killed her, the dominos of fate colliding so that her only option was self-sacrifice.

 _“We got close this time, my love,”_ Allura said, when her soul was in the Everything and Nothing, intertwined once more with his.

 _“One more try?”_ he suggested, reshaping some bits of their world. _“But this time, we’ll get it right.”_

—

Her Highness Princess Allura Alforsdottir of Altea, first of her name and heiress to her mother’s throne, was raised lovingly by two parents and one mustached advisor who adored her. She was taught the principles of ruling, the fickle nature of diplomacy, the mire of politics, and, when she insisted that her father quit seeing her as “his little girl,” and start treating her as queen to be, she learned of the necessity of sacrifice, how to be presented with a situation containing no easy solutions and make the hard decisions for her people’s greater good.

Her father’s death at the hand of an old friend was an anguish to her, and then ten thousand years she slept.

Lotor was raised by the strictest Dayak his father could find, one who would foster the Galran flame of violence and victory and the vrepit sa. This Lotor did not limp after his father’s approval, not this time. He knew, somehow, as though delivered to him in a dream, that he would never, ever get it. He kept his kindnesses as his own personal secrets. Hired those his father banished, spared lives he should have, by all rights, slain, and worked with the planets he ruled over, rather than slaughtering needlessly. He hid the Alteans away.

The planet he loved best never went down in flames, while he was forced to watch. That piece of his heart went unbroken, a final proof, to himself, that he _would_ find a way to sustainably gather quintessence. He never turned to more desperate methods of collection. Rift science remained largely hypothetical to him. For ten thousand years, he worked.

And, as they always did, their souls fell into orbit. 

The meeting was messy, antagonistic, both understanding the other to be a roadblock to their goals. But when they struck the chord of cooperation it rang out sweet and high and gentle on their souls, something settling down between them that was delightful, yet familiar.

“It feels as though my heart knows you,” Lotor admitted, in the quiet hours when they were alone.

“I feel a kinship with you, also,” Allura agreed, her hands holding Lotor’s larger ones gently, kindly. 

When they went to the rift, Allura paving the way for science Lotor thought impossible, they returned victorious, pure quintessence in unparalleled quantities now at their fingertips, and Allura returned to the happy surprise of Keith standing there with an Altean, a young woman too bold to stay where she’d been put, too eager to remain in hiding. Lotor’s secret came out before it’s time, but it was not an unhappy one. 

Peace came hard. It came at high costs. But it came, they made it come, and with hands intertwined, they signaled to their people, to the whole universe in its entirety, that the winter of war had ended and the spring of a new age was beginning. And they symbolized such with two vows, and one kiss, the grandest wedding the universe had ever known.


End file.
